


Family Ties

by EiraLloyd



Series: Family Ties [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Heavy Rain
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Androids (Detroit: Become Human), Amanda is mentioned - Freeform, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Twins, Gen, Heavy Rain AU, RK900 is called Ryan, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 00:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EiraLloyd/pseuds/EiraLloyd
Summary: “We all have our own individual resources that could be more beneficial if put together. Alice does not have much time left — it’s a plan worth trying, if only for her sake. After all, if the victim’s mother, a private detective, a journalist, and an FBI agent can’t solve this case together, then who can?”The private detective snorts. “Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> _“You go through life wondering what is it all about but at the end of the day it’s all about family.”_  
>  _—Rod Stewart._

  ** _I_**

**Kara**

The rain pounds harshly against her window. Every drop hitting the glass is like a slap to the face, reminding her of how useless she is. Reminding her how she failed to do the only thing that mattered in her life: keep Alice safe.

          If the letter on the table is anything to go by, Alice is anything _but_ safe. Kidnapped by none other than the most famous — or, rather, infamous — serial killer of the century. What possessed the Origami Killer to kidnap sweet, lovely Alice, she doesn’t know, but then again, anyone who murders any child at all lacks even the tiniest bit of compassion. And only a person with no ounce of compassion whatsoever would stoop so low as to kidnap and murder a child — let alone several.

            The clock in the kitchen ticks, far too slowly compared to the rhythm of raindrops against her windowpanes. Her heart is beating far too fast and far too loud for it to be healthy. The letters on the white sheet dance around, no longer readable. Still, Kara knows, she has to make a choice.

            But really, there’s no choice to be made.

            Alice is the only thing that matters.

            With a new feeling of resolve bursting within her chest, the young woman picks up her keys and the additional bits of paper that came with the cryptic letter.

            She will get Alice back, no matter what.

 

**Connor**

Logically speaking, Connor knows most police officers hate FBI agents. The young man, therefore, prepared himself mentally and emotionally to suffer through the number of hateful looks and comments that are bound to be sent his way as soon as he steps into Philadelphia.

            Still, all his preparation was for nought.

           His partner, a foul-tempered _bastard_ — there truly is no other word to describe him —, clearly would be happy to see him dead — would be ecstatic to be pulling the trigger, in fact — and spends every second of their time together throwing insults at him like they’re the carbon dioxide rejected by his lungs. While Connor doesn’t particularly care for this unbalanced psychopathic asshole’s opinion, ignoring him is just as draining as actually paying attention to him.

            All in all, his experience in Philadelphia is absolutely miserable.

           But then he looks at his files — stares at the desolate children’s eyes and feels his very soul break into pieces at the description of what was done to them. And he knows that he could be forced to work with a thousand Gavin Reeds and he would still take the case and do his very best to solve it.

            Because anyone who can be this heartless should be stopped. And if he has to go through the darkest pits of hell itself to do so, then so be it.

            Connor always accomplishes his mission. And this time? It will be no different.

 

**Hank**

Only a soulless bastard would come even close to do what the Origami Killer is doing. Since he first heard it in the news, Hank knew the bastard would have to be caught. And when the first parents brave enough to step forward did so, he was quick to accept the case, even though the offered pay was far below what he usually accepts.

            He has seen first-hand what the Philadelphia Police Department does, and he knows they will never solve the case. Hank isn’t sure he will manage it either, but he knows that if he tries, his investigation will at least go faster than the police’s. He can, after all, be very efficient if he puts his mind to it — and the bottle of whiskey aside.

            He knows what it’s like to lose a child — Cole’s eyes will forever haunt him from their place on a corner of his desk — and he will make sure no other parent goes through what he did.

            A parent should not be forced to outlive their child.

            So he will do his damn best to solve the case. For the victims. For the parents. For Cole. For himself.

 

**Markus**

Being a journalist is demanding, especially if you report criminal cases. You are basically asked to do a detective’s job without any police resources. Or at least that’s how it feels to Markus. Armed with a camera, a pen and notepad, and a voice recorder, he sets off into the streets of Philadelphia.

            He is aware of three things only.

            One, the latest body has been discovered this morning — another child, clasping an origami figure it his tiny hand.

          Two, far too many children have died already, and the police are as close to solving the case as they were when the murders began. Markus has hope that the new FBI agent in town might be able to point them in the right direction, but he has no faith in the police. He can only trust himself now.

            Three, a new child has been kidnapped. The name hasn’t been made public yet, but Markus has his sources, and they all point towards a certain Alice Williams. A little girl no older than ten years old, that the journalist would do anything to save.

            Too many children have died already, and he won’t let another one suffer the same fate.

 

**_II_ **

**Kara**

 

The station is full of people, and it makes Kara uneasy. She doesn’t like crowds, never has. Perhaps it stems from her own childhood, the weariness of other people never quite leaving her even though she’s well within her adult years.

            No matter. She needs to get through this if she has any hope of seeing Alice again. So she starts slow: putting one foot in front of the other.

            Reaching the other side of the station is surprisingly easy after that, and she surprises herself when she ends up face to face with the lockers that she headed towards in the first place.

            She gets a shoebox out of it and nothing more, but a pressure in her chest tells her it’s more important than it seems. She cradles the object in her arms as she makes her way past the crowd once more, her shoulders relaxing slightly once the cool October breeze hits her face.

            She knows the journey has only just begun, but she is relieved all the same. One obstacle has been faced. She’s one step closer to bringing Alice home.

 

**Connor**

Gavin Reed is not only an insufferable bastard, he’s also a shit detective, and his methods are beyond questionable. Verbally assaulting a man with schizophrenia and pushing him to his very limit makes the FBI agent’s blood boil, but there’s little he can do about it before the suspect pulls a gun and aims it at Reed’s head.

            He doesn’t particularly blame him for hating the guy, but he can’t really let this slide. So he pulls out his gun, even though he’s reluctant to use it, and quickly starts to figure out how to de-escalate the situation without anyone getting hurt.

           “You’re not going to kill the Antichrist with a gun, Daniel, he’s far too powerful for that.” And if he gets to call Reed the Antichrist... well, that’s a bonus. “I’m here to help you, Daniel. Please put the gun down.”

            Surprisingly — or rather, not so surprising; he didn’t get into the FBI by accident —, the man lowers his gun and follows his orders without protest.

            Up until the very last moment — a sudden move, reaching out for an object in the inside pocket of his jacket — and he tenses again.

_Fire?_

            It all happens too fast. He can’t tell what the object is, but he has a split second to make the decision.

            Is he willing to risk shooting an innocent person? Or should he assume it’s a gun and shoot first?

            But he can’t. He can’t condemn a life if he doesn’t have all the facts. And he doesn’t know whether Daniel has a gun or not.

            It all happens too fast. He doesn’t shoot.

_This is why your brother is better than you_.

            It’s not a gun. It’s a wooden cross.

_You were lucky this time._

            “I would’ve shot him.”

           He puts the gun away, hiding away the slight tremors of his arms. But Reed is long gone, taking a handcuffed Daniel with him, so there’s no reason to hide how shaken this situation left him.

            He takes in a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves, though the air is thick and stuffy — the rooms need to be ventilated desperately.

            He squares his shoulders and fixes his tie. He has no time for breakdowns. A child is missing. A suspect is being taken in for interrogation.

            He has a job to do, a life to save.

 

**Hank**

There are too many parents to visit. The original parents who hired him haven’t found anything new — and have long since stopped paying him. But he does get new clues from other, more recent parents.

            One of those is a shoebox with origamis, a gun, and a cellphone inside. And once the origamis are all unfolded, all the clues laid out right in front of him — he knows.

            The killer is a real, fucked up asshole.

            He doesn’t know if the papers are still valid, but he decides to start with the first clue. Maybe he will find something there. Something to point him in the right direction.

            And if not, he might need to carry on visiting other parents. He needs all the clues he can get.

 

**Markus**

 

The parents of the victims have nothing to give him. Either they refuse to give him anything on the grounds of him being a journalist, or they claim to have nothing to add to what’s already well-known. It’s the same for everyone — except Alice’s mother.

           Kara Williams is completely unreachable. She either hasn’t left her house in days or never hid there in the first place. Her front door is constantly blocked by crowds of reporters, which is why Markus is not surprised by her apparent disappearance.

            This crowd would prompt him to disappear as well.

            But he needs to find her. He needs to know what she knows in order to find her daughter.

            So he asks his friends for help.

            Markus would be lost without Jericho.

 

**_III_ **

**Kara**

 

Kara doesn’t like cars. She hates them, in fact. Has hated them ever since she ended up in the hospital when she was fifteen. It was a miracle she survived, and now she trusts no one behind a wheel but herself.

            Still, she does not expect her GPS to ask her to drive on the wrong side of the road, against the traffic, in a highway of all places.

            She’s not ready for this. She doesn’t know how she can possibly make it — it’s too much, too dangerous. What good would it do Alice if she dies right here?

            But she has to. She needs to get the letters for the address. She needs to save Alice.

            Or die trying.

          And she very nearly does. But thoughts of her daughter keep her going until the eventual crash. She’s not wounded, but the car threatens to explode, and she grabs the GPS before kicking the car window and dragging herself out of the machine, moments before it goes down in flames.

            The police will be there any minute. She needs to run as far away as she can.

           Once she returns to the motel she decided to hide in, she smashes the GPS against the floor. There is a micro SD card hidden inside that she fishes out from the remains of the device and slides into the cellphone she received with the package.

            Alice. She can see her daughter, alive, breathing, stuck in a well with a grid covering her head. She can’t escape. She must be cold, thirsty, hungry. This is too much. Too much.

            The images vanish. Letters appear on the screen. But not enough to guess an address out of it. She needs to keep going, for Alice’s sake.

            She unfolds the second origami.

 

**Connor**

 

Rupert Travis proves to be easy to find, but also easy to trigger. He pushes Reed and runs off, leaving Connor to chase after him as his supposed partner just kicks back and watches.

            Still, he’s a professional. His job is more important than his resentment towards Reed, so he does as he’s told and rushes to catch their second suspect.

           The chase is wild and full of strange obstacles — cages full of actual chickens, for instance — but he eventually manages to knock out the suspect. He takes a moment to catch his breath and fix his tie out of pure habit.

            Reed shows up then, looking bored, almost, and starts complaining about how he will have to drag an unconscious body to his car and later the police station.

_Your brother would’ve been faster._

            Connor shakes his head. It will do him no good to dwell on those thoughts, and the voice that whispers them brings back too many memories that are better off forgotten.

            He simply shrugs at the detective and helps him bring the suspect back to the station.

            It ends up being another dead end, and if that fact makes him a little more desperate... well, he doesn’t let it show.

 

**Hank**

The car has been taken out not too long ago, the manager says, by a young woman with blond hair and grey eyes. It’s only a hunch, but Hank shows him the picture of Kara Williams, the mother of the latest victim, just in case. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprising, the manager recognises her as the client in question.

            He gets the records of the car and decides to call Chris, his former colleague who still works at the precinct, to find out what happened to it.

            He’s at the station soon enough, and Chris is glad to tell him what he found out. A crash in a highway — the car was driving on the wrong side of the road, eventually losing control and flipping over. Nobody was injured, and the driver seems to have escaped.

            Kara Williams is at large. Probably ready to carry on with the trials given by the Origami Killer.

           Before Hank leaves the station, he spots him — a young man, in his late twenties, or perhaps early thirties; the same age Cole would be had he survived. He has brown hair and eyes, and he wears an impeccable suit. He looks almost out of place in the old precinct, surrounded by disillusioned cops and distraught civilians.

            He looks, dare he say, lost. And he seems to have noticed him as well.

            “My name is Connor Stern. I’m the agent sent by the FBI. Who are you?”

            His voice is light and goofy, making it difficult to take him seriously, despite his serious tone.

            “Hank Anderson. Private eye.”

            The agent blinks at him, asks what he’s doing.

           “None of your goddamn business.” Chris gives him a warning look, but Stern doesn’t seem to take offence. Against his better judgement, he decides to bring up the case. “How’s the hunt for the Origami Killer going?”

            “I’m afraid that information is confidential.” A small pause. “Are you pursuing the killer as well, Mr Anderson?”

            “Yeah. Probably doing a better job than you too.”

            Another warning glance from Chris. Again, Stern doesn’t seem to take offence.

            “You are familiar with Detective Reed’s work, then.”

            Hank snorts. No wonder the police isn’t getting anywhere. “They assigned _Reed_ to the case?”

            “Yes. He is rather... _difficult_ to work with.”

            “Understatement of the century.”

            “Listen, if you know anything about the case, feel free to contact me. I can return the favour by offering you access to certain police resources, should you need them.”

            “You sure you want to do that, kid? How do you know I’m trustworthy?”

            “I have heard of you, Mr Anderson. You seem to have a decent reputation. And, sometimes, certain risks have to be taken in order for results to be achieved.”

            Is this kid real? He speaks like a robot. Regardless, he’s offering help. Hank isn’t sure he can trust him, but he takes his card regardless. Who knows? Maybe he’ll prove useful somehow.

            “Whatever. See you around, Chris.”

            He leaves, ignoring the goodbye Stern throws his way.

            Eventually, after he’s exhausted all other options, he sighs and gives in. He takes out his phone and dials the number.

 

**Markus**

It’s surprisingly easy to find Kara Williams, mostly thanks to the help of his friends. She apparently signed in at a motel in town — a wise choice, as her house is still drowning in a crowd of journalists.

            Markus hasn’t found her room number, but he’s lucky enough to find her just as he steps into the complex and she walks down the staircase, ready to head out into the real world once more.

            “Hi, sorry, Ms Williams. My name is Markus Manfred. I’m a journalist, searching for the Origami Killer—”

            “No comment.” And, okay, he should’ve expected that.

            “Please. I want to help you. Too many children have died already.”

            “You just care about finding the killer. As long as you become famous, you don’t care what happens to Alice.”

           “I just want to find the killer to prevent any more murders. I want Alice and other children to be safe; I want their parents to go to sleep without having to worry about their children’s safety every day. I don’t care about fame. I just want him stopped. I want your daughter rescued. Too many children are already dead, and there will be more if he isn’t stopped.”

            “You can’t help me.”

            “I can. I have friends, resources I’m willing to share with you. I just need a minute of your time, please. I need to ask you a few questions.”

            “There’s something I need to do first. Meet me back here in a couple of hours. Then we’ll talk.”

            Finally. A lead.

 

**_IV_ **

**Kara**

Broken glass shards are sharp and painful against her skin, but it’s a familiar pain. She drags herself across the small tunnel slowly, as to not harm herself too much. She’s reminded of earlier days, as bleak as rainy October days, when her father wouldn’t hesitate to smash his bottles of whatever alcohol he could find against her.

            The memories bring a familiar pressure on her chest, but she ignores it. She can’t let them affect her, not now. She needs to carry on, for Alice’s sake.

            With her daughter’s face in mind, she drags herself forward, ignoring the demons of her past. Eventually, she reaches the final hatch, but the trial isn’t over.

            Electricity burns. She knows that, rationally. For once, her horrible childhood has nothing to do with it. For once, the terror that assaults her is unfamiliar.

            But she can’t give up. She can’t afford to be a coward. For Alice.

           Kara has never considered herself to be particularly flexible, but she does her best to go through the maze in front of her, careful to choose the easiest looking path. The less trouble she has, the better.

            In the end, she makes it. With no burns, but the marks on her forearms will remain, will join her old scars.

            She slides the new micro SD in the cellphone, heart clenching when Alice’s video pops up; heart lifting when more letters appear on the screen.

            One more trial done.

            One step closer to Alice.

 

**Connor**

The call from Hank Anderson is unexpected, but he’s glad it happened. He researched him once he left — if it turned out he was wrong about him, he could always change his mind and go back on his proposal.

          Turns out he has nothing to worry about — Hank Anderson is a retired police lieutenant who had a bright future ahead of him as possible commissioner but resigned to become a private investigator instead. What motivated him to do so, Connor doesn’t know.

         Regardless, he’s eager to find out whether working with him will be helpful, or if it will conflict with his investigation. He hopes for the former, but he hoped the same thing before he arrived in Philadelphia, before he met Gavin Reed.

_With or without Reed, your investigation wouldn’t lead to anything. You’re not good enough, Connor._

           “I have something to show you. Something that might interest you. But I need something in return.”

           “What is it that you want?”

           “I need to find Kara Williams. She might be in danger.”

           Sounds reasonable. “Very well. Where shall we meet?”

           Anderson gives him his address. Connor makes a quick search for the woman in question and requests any future updates to be sent to his phone.

           Fifteen minutes later, he gets into his car and heads to the PI’s address, excited to have a new lead.

 

**Hank**

 

The FBI agent arrives within the hour, which is quick enough to surprise Hank. He welcomes the young man into his apartment and hides his amusement when his dog Sumo startles the newcomer.

            Stern seems to take it all in stride, and he starts petting Sumo like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do. His dog seems to like it, because he stays well within the young man’s reach, ecstatic to receive such positive attention.

            Eventually, Hank clears his throat. “We’ve got work to do.” A child’s life is at stake, after all.

            Stern nods, and pats Sumo a couple more times for good measure, before standing up once more and straightening his tie. “What did you want to show me, Mr Anderson?”

            He shows him the shoe box and the unfolded Origami. The gun and cellphone as well. The young man sits in front of his desk, blinking it all in and analysing every word.

           “That’s strange...” A thoughtful expression on his face, his eyes move from one object to another, never staying still. “This supports the theory that the murders are well planned, but also that the killer doesn’t necessarily _mean_ to kill them. This is all part of a test for the _parent_. They’re the real targets here.” Hank agrees — he arrived at that conclusion too. “But the question is — _why_? Why this obsession with parents saving their children?”

             “Because he’s bat-shit crazy?”

             Stern ignores his sarcasm. “Some sort of childhood trauma, I would imagine. Did all parents receive a box like this?”

             “I think so. It would explain why some parents went missing so soon after their children.”

             Their eyes meet. There’s one thing both of them are now certain of: they finally have a solid lead.

             Stern’s phone chooses that moment to ring, and the young man pulls out his cellphone to check the notification.

             “Kara Williams’s car has been found. She just parked at a motel downtown. Maybe we should pay her a visit.”

            “We?” He didn’t expect this — he expected the young FBI agent to be an asshole and take his information and leave, going back on his deal once he’s had what he wants. But that’s not what he’s doing.

             “You shared your lead with me, Mr Anderson. I am sharing one with you.”

             He likes this kid.

 

**Markus**

 

He gets some takeaway from the diner down the road and waits at Kara’s door for her to get back. Time ticks by, and he passes some time by calling his father, and later his friends.

            Eventually, the young woman’s car returns to the motel’s small parking lot, and Markus stands up from his spot on the floor. An exhausted, bleeding Kara makes her way up the stairs, and the journalist leaves the bags on the ground and rushes to help her. He opens the door for her and leads her to the bed, leaving the takeaway on the table before closing the door. She insists on tending to her wounds herself, but he insists on helping her bandage her forearms anyway.

             If the way she grits her teeth is anything to go by, it hurts like hell, but she still refuses the painkiller he offers her.

             They end up eating the cold takeaway as they discuss the case — the shoebox on the table being the very first tangible piece of knowledge he has received since the beginning.

             But then, there’s a knock on the door.

             “Is anyone here?”

            They both stand up at the exact same time, glancing at each other in panic. Kara grabs the shoebox and closes it, shoving it under her bed. Markus grabs the remaining bandages and painkillers, and shoves them in the bathroom cupboard he found them in.

             “FBI, open up.”

             They _really_ can’t ignore that.

             Kara eventually opens the door, Markus hovering behind her. Two men are behind the door, and he recognises the younger one immediately.

             Connor Stern, the FBI agent sent to help the Philadelphia Police Department with the Origami Killer case.

            The older man is a mystery, and he definitely doesn’t dress like a normal member of the police force. His attire suggests far more a stereotypical private detective, though there is no evidence to either prove or disprove that theory.

             Kara invites them in, trying not to show how nervous she is, and Markus introduces himself, though omits his profession, trying to use his charisma to their advantage.

           He knows his trick hasn’t worked the moment Agent Stern’s eyes flicker to the bottom of the bed, from where a corner of the shoebox sticks out. He bends down to pick it up, and Markus panics for something to do.

             He doesn’t get the chance to do anything.

             “So you guys received one too.”

             The words are surprising enough to distract the journalist, and the FBI agent now has the shoebox in his hands. He opens it without resistance from either of them.

             “The origami figures are exactly the same, though the gun and the cellphone are missing.” The agent looks up at Kara. “I assume you have them with you?”

             The young woman says nothing, but eventually nods.

             “You’ve done the first trial, I know that much. But what about the second?”

             Another nod.

             “Jesus Christ. And the third?”

             A shake of her head.

             “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Now, why don’t we just take this with us, and—”

            Kara goes from wary to defiant in record time. “Absolutely not. I refuse to stand by while my daughter is in danger. I will go through these trials if that means I have the chance to save Alice.”

             “Listen, we can help you,” the agent cuts in, a soothing tone coating every word. “We can save your daughter. We just want you to be safe while we work to bring her back.”

             “I don’t care about my safety — I need _Alice_ to be safe!”

             “Look, we all want the same thing: Alice safe and the killer caught. So why don’t we work together? If we combine our resources, we might have a better chance to achieve both goals in time.”

          Markus tries to put as much sincerity and confidence in his words as he can. The older man scoffs, but the FBI agent regards him with interest, analysing both his words and his expression.

             He must find something he likes, because he eventually nods, surprising his partner.

             “Are you serious, Connor?”

            “He raises a valid point. We all have our own individual resources that could be more beneficial if put together. Alice does not have much time left — it’s a plan worth trying, if only for her sake. After all, if the victim’s mother, a private detective, a journalist, and an FBI agent can’t solve this case together, then who can?”

             Agent Stern is aware of his job? He definitely wasn’t expecting that, and he’s not sure how he feels about it either.

             The private detective snorts. “Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

             “Perhaps. But what about you, Ms Williams? What do you say? Are you willing to work with us?”

             Kara regards them one by one, her grey orbs seemingly calculating every possible outcome. “If it means I can carry on with the trials, then yes.”

             “Okay, great.” Markus stares at the three people in front of him, a plan already forming in his mind. “Speaking of which, what’s the next trial, Kara?”

 

**_V_ **

**Kara**

The young woman is not used to other people’s company, especially not a journalist’s. Regardless, he seems to genuinely care about her daughter, so she lets it slide this time. She parks her car in front of the building the address led her to, and stares at it for a moment, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.

            “Let’s go.”

           They both enter the building, and Kara quickly figures out which ceramic lizard contains the key. She fishes it from amongst the broken pieces of ceramic littering the floor, well aware of the journalist looming behind her.

            When she stands up, she turns towards him, her mind made up.

            “I’m going alone.”

            “But the whole point of this was that—”

            “I know, but this is something I have to do on my own. You wouldn’t understand.” A pause. “You can wait here, make sure nobody comes in. If I need help, I’ll call you.”

            It seems to mollify him, and he accepts the compromise. Ignoring her fear, the young woman turns the doorknob and enter the room.

           This trial requires a sacrifice. The loss of one of her fingers, to be precise. The young woman works quickly to find not only a sharp tool, but also something to cauterise the wound with. Once that is done, she’s ready to amputate one of her fingers in front of the camera.

            Breathe in.

            Breathe out.

            Breathe in.

            Breathe out.

            Breathe in.

            Chop.

            Scream.

            Breathe in.

            Cauterise wound.

            Scream.

            Breathe in.

            Breathe out.

            Breathe in.

            The micro SD card is under the table.

            Breathe out.

            Dig it up from its hiding spot.

            Breathe in.

            Insert the micro SD in the phone.

            Breathe out.

            Alice.

            Breathe in.

            More letters.

            Breathe out.

            It hurts.

            Breathe in.

            So bad.

            Breathe out.

            Pocket the phone.

            Breathe in.

            “Markus!”

 

**Connor**

The person who rented the apartment Kara and Markus are headed to also happens to own a shady nightclub in another part of the city. Carlos Ortiz, owner of the Eden Club, is most likely still there, or so indicates the information he gathered from the police station before driving off to pick Hank up at his place.

           They arrive there with no trouble, and with Connor’s FBI badge, they are led inside with even less. Hank grumbles something about that ID coming in handy, and the young man can’t help the little smirk that plasters itself on his face.

             It _is_ a rather handy tool.

           Carlos Ortiz is easy to find — unfortunately, he is not alive when they do. Hank leaves the room soon enough to interrogate the few workers that are still present, while Connor examines the room.

             Of course, he ends up getting attacked instead. He manages to survive, though he does end up being thrown against an aquarium. His suit protects him from most of the damage from the broken glass, and he manages to rip off the pocket of his attacker’s coat.

             With inhuman effort, he pushes himself to his feet and runs in pursuit of Ortiz’s murderer, only to catch him push Hank over the railing of the catwalk.

             The choice is made long before he can rationalise it, and he finds himself reaching out for the private detective’s arm and pulling him up with all the strength he can muster. They both end up on the floor of the catwalk, adrenaline and fear pumping through their veins, the assailant now disappeared.

             “Damn it, we were so close.”

           “I’m sorry. I should’ve been faster.” _Your brother would have stopped him. Your brother wouldn’t even have let him leave the room. Your brother wouldn’t have endangered anyone else’s life._

          “Kid, you saved my life.” And there’s real gratitude, there. So real and so strong it’s enough to make Amanda’s voice disappear, if only for a moment. “So, thanks.” He gets the impression those are not words Hank says lightly, if at all.

              Connor is strangely proud to hear them.

 

**Hank**

The employees have nothing useful to say, much to his frustration, but Connor seems to have found some clues in Ortiz’s office. It’s better than nothing, and he lets the young man call in the murder before they get into his car.

             They’re about to leave when they get another phone call.

           “Reed’s done _what_?!” Connor’s tone is a mix of outrage and disbelief, and it spikes his curiosity. What has that asshole done now? “You can’t be serious. Where are they?” His tense shoulders sag with relief for a moment, before they tense up again. “No. I don’t know. I’m doing some investigating on my side. I’ll keep you updated.” Who is he talking to? Someone from the precinct or the FBI? Probably the former, if Reed is involved.

             The phone call eventually ends, and Hank can see how anxious it left the kid — from the tense shoulders to the clenched fists, it’s obvious whatever news he received weren’t pleasant at all.

             “Reed’s marked Kara as a primary suspect, and very nearly arrested her at Ortiz’s apartment. They got away on the subway — had to leave the car behind.”

             “Shit. You gonna call it in?”

            He stares at the kid. He could do anything — give up the young woman’s life in the name of the law, or continue helping her, disregarding the law entirely. And whatever he chooses, Hank won’t be able to do anything about it without getting himself into trouble.

            “No. We’ve met Kara — I’m certain she’s not the killer. And Reed won’t care about her gender or her innocence — he will do _anything_ to make her confess.” A pause. “I hate to admit this, but she might be safer doing the trials.”

             Relief.

             “You’re doing the right thing.”

             A pause.

             “I hope so.” A soft murmur, nearly disguised by the roar of the engine. But Hank hears it. And in that moment, he _knows._

             Connor’s a good kid. And he’s actually glad to have met him.

 

**Markus**

Kara is terrified Connor will rat her out, but that turns out not to be the case. In fact, he’s concerned for her wellbeing, even more after finding out she cut off one of her fingers for the trial.

             “So, what do we do now?” Markus asks, looking around at the group.

             “We should relocate somewhere else. The receptionist of the motel has seen your face. If he recognises you, he could tip the police, and you would get caught regardless.” And there he is, prioritising Kara’s wellbeing. Markus is surprised the FBI agent is the one more worried about protecting the young woman instead of upholding the law, but that just speaks for the goodness of his character, and he finds himself appreciating that about him.

             “Where could we go? My house is not an option, and you live in D. C., not here.” The young woman has a good point. He supposes his apartment is an option, though he’s still hesitant to return there after everything, and he refuses to bother Carl about this, especially if it will put him in danger.

           “We could head to my place. No one will bother us there.” Hank’s proposal is his saving grace, and Markus will gladly take it. Apparently, so do Kara and Connor, and that matter is quickly solved.

             “Should we head there after the next trial?” Everyone stares at the young woman as if she’s grown another head.

             “ _Next_ trial?! You need to rest. You just cut your damn finger off, for God’s sake.” Hank, crude as always, but on point. Everyone seems to agree with that — except Kara herself.

             The young woman points at the remains of the takeout they just consumed. “I’ve just recovered energy, and there’s still light outside. I’m ready to go now.” She gives Connor a pointed look. “You’ve said it yourself — Alice doesn’t have much time left. I _need_ to do this, _now_.”

             They stare at each other. In the end, he doesn’t contradict her.

             “What’s the next trial?”

             They unfold the Origami on the table.

_Are you prepared to kill someone to save your child?_

 

**_VI_ **

**Kara**

Kara feels their judgemental gazes on her even once they’re all gone, and she’s alone with the private detective, standing in front of her target’s door.

            “You sure you want to do this?”

            “I have no choice.”

            Alice would hate her for it — has more of a moral backbone than she ever will — but if that’s the price she has to pay for her daughter to be alive, then so be it.

            “You ever used a gun before?”

            She doesn’t reply, checking the gun with familiar, calming movements. That is enough of an answer for Hank, who looks satisfied. She gives him a sideways glance, and if his posture is anything to go by, he won’t stop her.

            Neither will the FBI agent or the journalist.

            It feels surreal, almost. Surely these agents of good, of the law, would do anything to stop her?

           But then again, they know who she’s dealing with. The man she’s about to face is Zlatko Andronikov, and he deals with two very obscure areas of trade — person trafficking and drug deals. Connor looked into the criminal database for her, and simply reading the crimes he was only accused of had made her blood run cold.

            Hank is with her as backup — he has experience with these things, the FBI agent had mysteriously said, and the private eye offered no more than a grunt. There is a story there, but she knows she won’t be getting any details.

            Not that it matters. Not right now.

            Squaring her shoulders, she rings the doorbell, and Hank hides further down the corridor.

            All in all, the kill is easy. Zlatko himself answers the door, and she pulls out the gun.

            Kara has only shot one other person in her life, and that person looked so much like Zlatko she doesn’t even hesitate.

            She sees Todd fall backwards, three bullets to the chest, but it’s Zlatko’s face she sees once she’s blinked the shock away.

           Two men, so similar, so horrible. And she has killed them both. One an eternity ago, the other so recent she can’t quite believe it happened. She doesn’t know how she should feel — proud? Horrified? She just feels numb, putting the weapon away mechanically, and taking out the cellphone to send proof of death.

            “You okay?” Hank appears behind her.

            “Yeah.” No, but he doesn’t need to know that.

            Once the picture is sent, she gets the mandatory picture of Alice, and a few more letters to complete the hangman.

            She’s so close she can feel it. Only one more trial, and she will finally have Alice safe, in her arms.

            She can do this.

            She _will_ do this.

            And no one will get in her way.

 

**Connor**

After Markus and Connor are done cleaning up the rented motel room, the former returning the key, they head to the police station. The FBI agent leads him to his office, where they can go over the evidence without being questioned by other police officers — mainly Gavin Reed.

            They don’t have much. There is one piece of evidence Hank and Kara will look into once they’re done with the trial, and the rest of what they have is exactly the same as the police...

            Except for the torn coat pocket.

           He had almost forgotten about that — the sting of his abused shoulders is nothing he isn’t used to by now, and what he remembers most vividly of the fight is reduced to letting the man escape in order to save Hank’s life.

            But there is evidence there. Receipts to the same gas station and a business card.

_A business card_.

            He almost can’t believe it. It’s too good to be true. One look into the journalist’s eyes and he knows he shares the sentiment.

            And then, he takes a good look at the name on the card.

_Elijah Kamski._

            Why does that name sound so familiar? Why does it bring such strong anxiety with it?

            He stares at the card, lost in thought.

_Elijah Kamski_.

            “Connor, are you okay?”

_Elijah Kamski._

            “Connor?”

_I will not let that happen! Elijah Kamski is not a good father — just look at what he did to his child!_

            “Amanda...”

            “What?”

            Startled, he looks up into the other man’s mismatched eyes. “I... I need to make a phone call.”

            His hands are shaking as he excuses himself to have some privacy, and he knows Markus noticed.

            This might just turn out to be a family matter, and Connor has never been good at dealing with family.

 

**Hank**

Having a friend who deals with typewriters is incredibly useful when you realise that they might be able to provide you with information for an investigation.

            Gary is an old friend, and when he offers both his guests a glass of whiskey, he accepts. He never says no to alcohol, and Kara looks like she needs it.

            They talk a little about everything and nothing — staying clear of the Origami Killer topic — and eventually, Kara brings out the envelope she received.

            It’s from an old typewriter, and though a common one, only Gary has access to the parts needed to repair one or keep it in decent conditions.

            They leave the store with the list and Kara with a second glass of whiskey in her belly.

            Hank doesn’t blame her. Killing someone in self-defence or in defence of a loved one is one thing. Killing someone in cold blood is another entirely.

            At this point, he can only hope she will survive this ordeal with her sanity in a decent state. But with it intact?

            That’s clearly not the case anymore.

 

**Markus**

When Connor walks back into his office, he looks troubled, though he attempts to hide it. He claims it’s time to visit this Elijah Kamski, and Markus agrees, though he wonders what it is that left the FBI agent so perturbed.

          Kamski’s mansion is just as big as Carl’s, though that’s where the similarities end. Where Carl is all welcome and warmth, Kamski is distance and ice. Standing outside his door is incredibly uncomfortable and being invited inside feels even worse.

            Connor seems to take it all in stride, seemingly not at all impressed by the house or its atmosphere. But if his previous perturbed expression is anything to go by, this might be only a front.

             Who knows what the young man is truly feeling?

             “Are you okay, Connor?”

             They’ve been left alone in a waiting room. He hates waiting, though he’s used to it. The FBI agent is walking around the room, analysing everything he can find.

             He’s been standing in front of a particular picture for far too long, so Markus joins him. It shows Kamski standing next to a dark-skinned woman, older than him.

             “Yes. I’m fine.” He sounds distant, as if he’s a thousand miles away.

             “Do you know her?”

             He doesn’t get to answer the question. The blond young woman who answered the door returns and leads them to another room — an indoor pool with clear crimson water instead of a cool blue. It makes Markus nervous all of a sudden.

              He _really_ wants to leave.

           “Agent Stern. Is there anything I can do for you?” The man oozes arrogance, which does not make the situation any better. Connor is too busy analysing the man, so he decides to exchange some pleasantries — Carl raised him well, after all — but he’s cut off almost immediately. “How’s Amanda doing?”

_Amanda?_

              “I could not say. I haven’t spoken to her in years.” Wait, who is this Amanda and how is she connected to both of them?

              “Not surprising. She always did have a knack for pushing people away and destroying their lives.”

              “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Markus receives a strange look for his words — as if the man in front of him had completely forgotten he was there.

              “In a way, yes. Amanda... made a big impact in my life.”

              “She spoke of you. Once.” That might explain why Connor left his office looking so shaken, to make a phone call. A phone call to this Amanda? “Mentioned a child that you had.”

              “Two children, but yes. What of it?”

              “What happened to them?”

              “Didn’t Amanda tell you?”

              “Would I be asking if she had?”

             There’s something about this exchange that makes Markus feel uneasy — as though he’s intruding in a private moment. Amanda is the key to this, he figures, but he will have to wait until they’re alone to ask Connor who she is.

             “I know exactly what you’re asking, Connor. And I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But you have to remain with me for a fortnight, from today forwards. No communications with the outside world.”

              “I’m afraid I have to decline. I’m investigating a disappearance, and the victim doesn’t have long to live.”

             “Pity. It seems you won’t get the answers you’re looking for.”

             Connor clenches his fists. It’s time to go.

             “Thank you for your time, Mr Kamski, but I think it’s time we take our leave.” He somehow manages to sound diplomatic and pleasant, even though this meeting is anything but.

            “Of course. Say hello to your father for me, Mr Manfred.” _What?_ Connor starts to leave, and Markus follows him automatically, his brain struggling to process the information. “Oh, and Connor? Please give my apologies to your brother. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to our next dinner.”

           The FBI agent stops right in his tracks, and Markus nearly runs into him. “Connor, come on.” It is barely a whisper, but a whisper is enough, and the young man moves forward once more.

             This meeting has left them with more questions, and the answers to those threaten to be more than they can handle.

 

**_VII_ **

**Kara**

The young woman feels strange, as though the world is nothing but an illusion. She vaguely remembers having felt this way once before — but back then, Alice’s presence had been an anchor. Now she has nothing.

            At least until the evidence is put on the table, literally and metaphorically.

            “We cross-referenced the names on Gary’s list and on the list of subscribers to the Origami magazine, and there’s only one name that appears on both. Amanda Stern.”

            Connor tenses. Everyone notices.

            “You know her, kid?”

            “It’s not her.”

            A little flame sparks within her — the only semblance of anger she can have in this state. “How do you know?”

            “This is too careless, especially for her. She would never let her real name be so easily found. If she wanted to commit a crime, it would be a perfect one.”

            “So you know her.”

            “She’s also been dead for ten years.”

            Silence. It’s definitely not her.

            “So we’re back to square one.” Hank huffs. If she had any energy left in her, Kara would relate. Frustration would overcome her if she could be bothered to feel it in the first place.

            But she’s drained, and her mind is in a faraway place. Alice’s absence only strengthens that feeling — she has no anchor anymore.

            “Not necessarily. I have a feeling Elijah Kamski knows more than he let on.” So does he, and the FBI agent doesn’t seem very inclined to share.

            “He knew my father. Maybe if we talk to him, we can find out more about him.” The journalist is being useful again. Good. For a while, Kara thought he might have been lying — that he was just following along to get his story. But if he’s willing to help now, then maybe he wasn’t lying — maybe he _does_ care about Alice.

            Hank is the one who makes the final decision — Kara will head straight to bed (“No complaints.”) while Connor and Markus pay a visit to the latter’s father.

            The young woman is convinced she will not be able to sleep, but darkness takes her over the moment her head touches the pillow, proving her wrong.

 

**Connor**

Connor feels inexplicably nervous as he pulls into the Manfred mansion. He feels bad for bothering an old man in the middle of the night, but Markus assures him he’s awake, that he just returned from an art exhibition, and that he’s got no desire to go to sleep any time soon.

           It doesn’t ease his nerves at all.

           His hands itch to take his phone out of his pocket and dial his brother’s number, but he stops himself just in time. He can talk to his brother later. He needs to know the full truth before he can contact him. Besides, two phone calls in one day will worry him.

          Carl Manfred is a thoughtful man, and the FBI agent can see where Markus gets his mannerisms from. He seems happy to see his son, and even the journalist looks more relaxed than he’s ever seen him.

           It suits him.

           “Elijah was an old friend of mine. But that was before...”

           “Before what?”

           “His altercation with his college professor, Amanda Stern.”

           “What was the nature of their altercation?”

         “Amanda claimed he was neglecting both his children. She claimed he was too young and immature to take care of them, especially if he was studying a degree at the same time. She claimed he wasn’t good enough.”

_You’re not good enough._

           “The court eventually ruled in Amanda’s favour, and a few months later, she adopted the twins. Elijah was never the same after that.”

           Both Manfreds, father and son, are staring at him. They both know — they both _understand_ the meaning of those words. And so does he.

           It makes sense now, why Kamski mentioned dinner with his brother. A father trying to reach out to his son. But it doesn’t explain why he didn’t reach out to Connor.

_Because you’re not good enough._

         But they’re not here for him. They’re here to see if Kamski might have something to do with the Origami Killer. It was the agent’s fault they hadn’t got anything out of him when they visited the man — he had been too distracted by the mention of Amanda to remember to keep the questioning in line with the case.

           He won’t fail again.

           “In what way did he change?”

           “He was always arrogant, but there was something else there afterwards. A deep self-loathing that he could never get rid of.”

         “Did he ever... try to get the twins back?” This question was both personal and impersonal. In the event of a kidnapping, how far would you go to save your own child? Would you do anything to get them back? How far did Kamski go to get his brother and him back?

           “He tried, but Amanda had too tight a grip on them. Said he would never get them back, not even in death.” A pause. “He and Amanda often clashed. Neither liked the other’s views and methods, both when it came to family and academics.”

            Does that fit the psychological profile? Does Kamski? Has he been reading the Origami Killer wrong this whole time?

            “Thank you, Mr Manfred. I think we’ve got all we came for.”

            Is Elijah Kamski the Origami Killer? Is his father the killer he is meant to catch?

 

**Hank**

Hank is startled by a key turning in the lock. His tired eyes glance at the clock. It’s two in the morning and he’s not expecting anyone. Before he has time to take out his gun, the intruder walks in, and he realises who it is.

            Connor.

            “I thought you were going back to that overpriced hotel of yours.”

            The young man blinks, startled, as though he didn’t expect to find Hank awake. “I—I thought... I apologise for the inconvenience.”

            He sighs. It’s probably the first time he’s seen the guy stutter. But then again, this case has taken its toll on all of them.

           “Sit down, kid. You’re too tired to drive anywhere.” And he is. He has dark circles under his eyes and he’s slouching — something he has never done before, at least in Hank’s presence. “Kara’s using the bed, but you can sleep in the couch.”

            “What about you?”

            “I have two couches.”

           He looks like he’s about to complain, but then thinks better of it and sits down. Hank considers asking him what they found out from Carl Manfred, but in the end decides not to. It’s better to discuss it in the morning, when they’re all awake.

            “You okay, kid?” Sumo has managed to jump on the couch and is now using Connor as his human pillow. The FBI agent doesn’t seem to mind — he’s petting the dog absent-mindedly, lost in thought.

            “I thought I knew what I had to do. But now I realise it’s not that simple.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “This case has become personal. I’m not certain I will be able to see it through.”

            Isn’t that thought worrying?

            “What the hell are you on about?”

            “May I ask you a personal question?” That comes out of nowhere, and the private eye grunts his assent. “Why did you quit your job at the precinct?”

            That... is not at all what he expected.

            “You looked me up, huh?”

            “Yes.”

            “I did more for them than they ever did for me.” Except for Chris. Chris was a true friend, and perhaps the only one he ever made during his time in the force.

            “Do you have any family?”

            “More personal questions?”

            “Sorry.”

            “A son. I had a son.” A pause. “His name was Cole.”

            “What happened to him?”

            Didn’t he know? Didn’t it come up in his search?

            “He died. Doctor was too high to do the surgery properly.”

            “I’m sorry.” A pause. “My family is... complicated. We have a tendency to... keep secrets from each other. And now that I know some of those secrets, I... I don’t know what to do.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Elijah Kamski is our main suspect... and he also happens to be my father.”

            The words feel like a punch to the gut.

            “Jesus Christ.”

            “I didn’t know that before today. But apparently, my brother did.”

            “What are you going to do about it?”

            “I don’t know. If it turns out Kamski is the Origami Killer...”

            A long pause. It’s getting hard to breathe in here.

            “Get some rest, kid. We can think about this in the morning.”

            “Thank you, Hank.”

            He turns the light off, before settling back on his own couch, already dreading the back pain he is sure to get tomorrow.

            “Good night.” Connor’s voice seems distant, but it’s still there.

            “Good night, son.” And sleep takes him.

 

**Markus**

Markus expected a quiet night at his father’s place. But that, of course, would have been too boring. Of course, once he put Carl back in his bed, just like in the old days, Leo arrived.

            He didn’t think he would see him ever again, and yet here he is.

            The young man looks a lot better than last time — no more jitters, no stutter or uncontrollable temper. He looks healthier too, and it reminds Markus of the time in which they were just kids, yet unbothered by the other’s presence.

            “Uh, hi.” Leo’s nervous, and that’s obvious to the naked eye. It’s strange, almost, as if he were another person entirely.

            Then again, he’s clean now. That might be making more of a difference than he previously thought.

            “Hey. How... how are you?” This meeting is painfully awkward for the both of them, but it was foolish of him to assume he could postpone it forever.

            “Good. Good. Better now that I’m out of the hospital.”

            Markus winces. “Listen, Leo, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard — to send you to the hospital...”

            “No, it was my fault. I said some things that night... did some things that... that I wish I could take back. I’m so sorry, Markus.”

            “I’m sorry too.” A pause. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

            “Me too.”

            Small, tentative smiles.

            Maybe in time, they’ll both be okay.

 

**_VIII_ **

**Kara**

There it is. The final trial. Right in front of her. It’s nothing — just a vial with a clear liquid. It looks like water, but the recording says it’s poison.

            Her life in exchange for Alice’s.

            Honestly? It’s a no-brainer.

            Alice’s life comes before everything, even her own.

            She doesn’t hesitate as she gulps down the contents of the vial, glad there’s no one around to stop her. Hank is in the car, ready for a getaway drive if needed.

            And it _will_ be needed. She has one hour to find Alice before the poison takes effect. One hour to hold her daughter in her arms one last time.

            She can do this.

            She _has_ to do this.

            Alice will be safe.

            The video.

            The letters.

            An address. Finally.

            “I’m going to save you, Alice. You’re coming home.”

 

**Connor**

“Kamski’s not home.”

            “When will he be back?”

            “I’m not sure yet. You’re welcome to wait.”

            He hands out a business card to the blond woman. “Give me a call when he gets home.”

            He dials his brother’s number, almost afraid of what he will find out — of whether he will find out anything at all.

            “Two calls in two days, Connor?”

_You’re going soft._

            “I wouldn’t call if it weren’t urgent, Ryan.”

            “What is it now?”

            “Kamski said he wouldn’t be able to make it for dinner.” A pause. “I wasn’t aware you were on speaking terms with our father.”

            “You know.”

            “I do. Why didn’t you tell me?”

_You’re not good enough._

            “He said he would do it himself, in his own time. It didn’t take him long, I see.”

            “He didn’t say anything. Just dropped clues. I don’t... How well do you know him?”

            “We’ve been in speaking terms for the past few years.” Too vague. Too hurtful.

_You’re not good enough_.

            How many times has he heard that sentence directed his way? How many times has he thought that to be true? Does he even believe that anymore?

_Am I not good enough?_

            “Ryan, I need you to be honest with me. What do you think of Kamski?”

           “What do I... think of him?” It’s hard to remember that it is, in fact, his brother, who has taken Amanda’s teachings to heart more than Connor ever has. He often forgot he was allowed to have an opinion of his own — and clearly, he still does.

            The FBI agent’s heart clenches. “Yes. What kind of person do you think he is?”

            “I’m not certain. I have yet to figure it out. He seems troubled by the past — stuck in it, almost. He speaks of Mother very often and asks about our childhood. He speaks of his past too, though treats his present lightly, as if it were not important.” A pause. “I’m not sure what to make of him.”

            “But you said you’ve known him for years.”

            “We see each other sporadically. Three times a year at most.” A pause. “Connor? Are you mad at me?”

           His heart clenches. He sounds almost like when he was a child — his younger twin, afraid of angering him or Amanda. He’s not sure why he’s asking that now, but he feels guilty. What did he say or do that made his brother — _the better brother_ — feel so insecure once more?

            “No, Ryan. No, I’m not mad.” He speaks as softly as he can, trying to appease his brother. “I just... I want to understand.”

            “I... I was just trying to respect his wishes.”

            “Ryan. It’s okay. I’m not mad.” He needs to reassure him. He doesn’t want to lose his brother, certainly not over Kamski, of all people. “There’s... something I need to tell you.”

            “What is it?”

            “Do you know the case I’m working on?”

            “The Origami Killer?”

            "I think...” He deserves to know. “Kamski is our primary suspect.”

            “You... You shouldn’t be telling me this.”

            “I know. But Ryan... If it turns out it’s him, I might have to...”

            A pause.

            “Connor.” He swallows, expecting the worst. “I know we haven’t... always seen eye to eye on everything. But I know you, Connor. And I know you will do the right thing.”

_But what is the right thing?_

            “Thanks. And Ryan? Maybe, after this is over, we can... catch up?”

            He doesn’t recall the last time he saw his brother. He misses him.

            “Yeah. Good luck, Connor. Be careful.”

            What is the right thing?

            _Saving Alice._

          Kamski doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He can run through the list of his properties in Philadelphia, and if he finds the young girl in one of them... well, he’ll have his answer.

            The man owns a warehouse in the docks. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.

            For Alice.

 

**Hank**

They reach the docks in record time. In the car, Kara made him promise to take care of Alice. He doesn’t know why, but he agreed all the same. He’s almost scared to ask.

            Hank isn’t in the best physical shape, but he does his best to keep up with Kara as they run through the large, empty warehouse.

            “Alice!”

            They find her. She’s stuck in a small well, towards the end of the warehouse. Kara takes out the gun the killer gave her and shoots the lock, lifting the grid and pulling her daughter out of the water.

            “It’s going to be okay, Alice. It’s going to be okay.”

            The little girl nearly drowned. She coughs all the water out of her lungs, before turning to her mother, who doesn’t hesitate in wrapping her in a tight hug.

            “Alice. I need you to know something. I love you, okay? I love you. And I’m... I’m going to miss you. I’m so sorry. But I had to do this. To save you.”

            Oh no.

            “Kara... What did you do? What was the last trial?”

            A gun clicks behind him.

            Shit.

            “Drinking a vial full of poison.” Hank tenses. “Turn around. Slowly.”

            Elijah Kamski. Of course.

_I’m sorry, Connor._

            “You made it. You did everything you could to save your precious daughter. There was no poison in the vial.” What? “But you’re still going to die.”

            “Why? I did everything that you wanted. Why can’t you just let us go?”

            “I lost everything. I lost my family — it was ripped away from me, by a monster. I could never get my family back. I could never find peace. And neither will you.”

 

**Markus**

Markus runs like he’s never run before. From the moment he gets a message from Hank with the address, the journalist rushes to his destination. He tries calling Connor, but he’s not replying, so he leaves a message with the address.

            He hopes the agent will make it in time.

            He arrives just in time to see none other than Elijah Kamski about to kill his friends. So he does the first thing he comes up with.

            He grabs a metal rod and hits the Origami Killer in the back.

            He runs away and knows from the loud footsteps behind him that the killer is after him.

            He keeps moving, jumps over the obstacles in his path, reaches the rooftop of the warehouse.

            But it’s not enough.

           Kamski reaches him just in time and manages to bring him down. He’s going to die, he knows — he has the barrel of a gun pointed at him. He’s not afraid to die — he’s gone through so much, he’s accepted his death long ago.

            He doesn’t close his eyes when he hears the gun go off. He doesn’t feel anything at all.

            Why?

            Kamski falters. He drops the gun. He falls.

            What?

            Markus props himself on his elbows. He needs to see. He’s not dead — not wounded at all, in fact. But the Origami Killer is. Kamski is lying on the ground, shot to the chest.

            Who?

            He turns his head. Connor is there, gun raised, a determined expression on his face.

            He’s killed his father, and Markus’s heart clenches in sympathy.

           But then their eyes meet, and he can see it — Connor is _relieved_. For the first time in a very long time, words fail him. He can do nothing else but give the FBI agent a grateful nod. The young man nods back.

            The Origami Killer is dead.

            Alice is safe.

            They survived.

            It’s finally over.


End file.
